Unexpected Knowledge
by Peonywinx
Summary: In which magic isn't the only talent Merlin possesses. Apparently the infamously clumsy servant-warlock also happens to be outrageously skilled with KNIVES, of all things.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I cracked. Turns out, despite my every intention of finishing **Knowledge of Friends **first, I'm not good at keeping a completed fic squirreled away on my hard drive - which is good for you guys, as you've all been clamouring for a sequel to **Common Knowledge**. I will at some date finish **__Knowledge of Friends_**, _and you'll finally learn how_**_** each of the characters learned of Merlin's magic and decided to keep the secret - but for now, this is what I have for you. **_

_**This may not be the sequel you're expecting, but the idea for this string of fics for me evolved to become not merely about a reveal of and subsequent reactions to Merlin's magic, but about how Merlin is and at the same time is more than magic, and how there are other things besides magic the others do not yet know about him. As such, this story and each of the succeeding sequels (more on that later) are only loosely connected to **Common Knowledge**, and it is not necessary to read that before you read this. I would like you to read it, though ;)**_

_**The original idea for this fic was inspired by **Lazuli Quetzal's **brilliant oneshot, **Figures in the Night**. Go read that - it's truly an entertaining masterpiece. I wou****ld also like to take this opportunity to thank her for allowing me to use her idea here.**  
><em>

**Disclaimer: I don't own** _Merlin**.**_

* * *

><p>"You're holding it wrong."<p>

Arthur paused midway through drawing back his arm to stare incredulously at Merlin. "Excuse me?"

Merlin grinned cheekily as he nodded at the knife clutched in Arthur's hand. "You're holding it wrong," he repeated innocently.

In response, Arthur snapped his arm forward and released the knife, which hurtled through the air to strike the wooden target at the opposite end of the field. "I beg to differ, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "Suit yourself – but you'd get better results if you held it right."

Arthur scoffed. "And what do _you _know about throwing knives, _Mer_lin?"

"Enough to know you're not hitting the centre of the target," Merlin needled.

Arthur scowled and raised his hand to cuff Merlin's head; Merlin ducked, to Arthur's displeasure. The King looked as though he very much wanted to smack Merlin, but he simply ordered, "Go get the knives, Merlin."

"Yes, Sire."

Merlin trotted off to the target to retrieve the five knives Arthur had successfully embedded in the wood. Arthur observed the target critically, and he had to admit he was no great shakes at knife-throwing, even if he was a spectacular swordsman. Each knife he'd thrown was hitting the target reasonably close to the centre, which ordinarily would have satisfied him – who cared where the knife hit the enemy as long as it _hit_ him? – but a quick glance over at where Gwaine was laughing was more than enough to remind Arthur that his boisterous knight was hitting much closer to the centre than he was, with seemingly half the effort. Elyan, too, was doing reasonably well – but Leon was lucky if he managed to get his knives to strike even the edge of the circular wood, and Percival lacked the finesse to handle a throwing knife properly, with the result that he'd dropped his knives several times already.

Merlin returned with Arthur's knives, then retreated a safe distance away to watch as Arthur began throwing them again. He sat down next to Lancelot, who had chosen not to participate in today's knife-throwing training session because his strong sense of honour and nobility meant he was not comfortable with practicing an art meant to strike at an opponent from distance – he felt it to be an unfair act.

"This is ridiculous," Merlin said in amusement, watching Arthur curse as his knife sailed just shy of the centre of his target.

Lancelot smiled mildly. "It's a useful skill to know, Merlin." Even if he himself did not wish to learn, Lancelot conceded that being able to throw a knife with accuracy could come in handy at some point.

"Why?" Merlin wanted to know. "Every one of the knights is freakishly good with a sword, and crossbows are quicker to fire than knives. Besides, if long distance attack is what Arthur wants, my magic can take care of it easily – and he knows it."

"Magic's not legal yet," Lancelot reminded him. "Arthur's still in the process of revising the laws – nothing's official yet. The Round Table knows about you, but the rest of Camelot doesn't."

"Yes, because King Prat has decided he wants a big fancy speech and a grand introduction of his new Court Sorcerer to a shell-shocked public on practically the same day he officially repeals the ban." Merlin shuddered. "Honestly, Lancelot, can you imagine _me _as _Court Sorcerer_?"

"Very well, Merlin," Lancelot said with a smile. "You've been unofficially filling that post for years, after all."

"He'd better not make me wear a ridiculous hat," Merlin muttered.

There was a curse from Percival as he fumbled with his knife and succeeded in splicing the skin on his finger open. Gwaine laughed.

"Still haven't figured out the difference between the blade and the hilt?" he teased the large knight.

"You're _supposed _to hold it by the blade," Percival muttered.

"Oh, I know that," Gwaine said lightly, fingering the blade of his own knife. "But for beginners, especially in the heat of battle, it's best to grab it and throw it by the hilt – otherwise you might end up lopping your finger off. Isn't that right, Princess?" he threw mockingly at Arthur.

Arthur scowled. "Leon, why in God's name did you ever tell him that story?"

"He asked, Sire." Leon was knightly enough to let nothing but polite amusement show in his tone for the incident when Arthur was twelve. The young prince had been fooling around with the knife at his first knife-throwing lesson, and had very nearly severed his finger. Since then, Arthur always held and threw his knives firmly by the hilt, despite the mechanical advantage to be gained by grasping the blade end.

Arthur chose not to respond, instead seizing another knife and plunging it into the target with such force it carved a splinter out of the edge.

"Careful, Arthur," Gwaine said snidely. "We wouldn't want the targets to be wrecked before the tournament, would we?"

Arthur resisted the urge to fling his third knife at Gwaine, in a large part because the irritating knight was looking to be Camelot's best chance to take the knife-throwing competition.

Because, of course, the real reason Arthur had suddenly decided to have a knife-throwing session was the upcoming tournament with Mercia. Lord Bayard was bringing his best knights to test their skills against Camelot's finest in a range of combat skills during his diplomatic visit. The itinerary included friendly duels, archery, swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat – and knife-throwing. Mercia's knights were widely acclaimed to be very, very good at knife-throwing, and Arthur was determined not to be outdone.

"Just keep practicing," Arthur instructed, evoking grins from Gwaine and Elyan and grimaces from Leon and Percival (whose finger was still trickling blood). "Camelot's pride is at stake."

"Oh, yes," said the irrepressible Gwaine. "Camelot's pride knows no bounds."

"Nor does her King's," Merlin interjected from across the field. Gwaine howled with laughter as Arthur's face reddened.

"Merlin," he said.

"Shut up?" Merlin guessed.

"Do." Arthur turned to watch Elyan sink his knife dead centre into his target – it was the first time he'd accomplished the feat this training session, and he looked enormously pleased with himself. "Well done, Elyan," he called, and his brother-in-law grinned.

"Oi, how come I never get praise?" Gwaine demanded. "I've hit the centre at least twice already."

"You're annoying. Elyan's not."

"Oh, is that how it is?" Gwaine eyed Elyan, who shrugged nonchalantly.

Arthur's next throw hit the wood somewhere between the centre and the edge, while Percival's, flung with great force, missed his target entirely. Leon's landed about five inches out from the centre circle – the closest he had got all morning.

"Maybe you should leave the knife-throwing to Elyan and me, Princess," Gwaine suggested.

"Maybe," Arthur retorted, "you should shut up and keep practicing until you're hitting the centre _every_ time. Merlin, my knives!"

With a roll of his eyes at Lancelot, Merlin retrieved Arthur's knives once again – only this time he did not leave his seat. With a wave of his hand and a flash of gold on blue eyes, Arthur's knives detached themselves from the target and floated back to the surprised King.

"Merlin!"

Merlin chuckled, and Arthur gathered his knives to throw again, grumbling about lazy servants who used magic to cheat on chores. Just to spite him, Merlin returned all the knights' knives with magic as well, causing Arthur to shoot him a death glare (the knights, however, muttered their appreciative thanks).

"Gwaine and Elyan are rather good, aren't they?" Lancelot remarked, watching the two knights compete to see who could throw the knives more accurately.

Merlin shrugged. "They're not bad," he conceded. He had filched a knife from the large equipment pile next to him and was casually playing with it, flipping it and making it twirl in the air with deft movements of his wrist and fingers. Lancelot observed him through narrowed eyes.

"Merlin."

"Hm?" The knife did not stop rotating.

"You know a lot more about throwing knives than you're letting on, don't you?"

Merlin grinned slyly at him, and caught his knife by the blade without even looking. Feeling suddenly mischievous, he drew his arm back, and, quick as a whip, jerked his hand forwards, releasing the knife to let it fly right past Arthur's astonished face before it struck the King's target dead in the centre.

Arthur stared at Merlin and Lancelot, and the other knights paused in their training to observe this interesting new development. Merlin met Arthur's gaze serenely, but the King shifted his eyes to Lancelot.

"That was…impressive," said Arthur. Impressive was an understatement – the bench Merlin and Lancelot were sitting on was at least half the length of the field behind where Arthur and his knights were standing to throw, and yet one of them had thrown that knife straight into the centre of Arthur's target without the benefit of an upright stance's leverage and position. "Lancelot, why aren't you practicing with us?" For of course it couldn't have been _Merlin _who'd thrown that knife, regardless of the indignant expression on his face at Arthur's automatic assumption. "You could wipe the floor with Bayard's knights."

"It wasn't me, Sire." Lancelot's tone was mirthful, and he appeared to be hiding a smile as he exchanged a glance with Merlin.

"Come off it," Arthur said at once. "You expect me to believe that Merlin…" He trailed off, noticing the ire on his manservant's face. "_Merlin_?"

"And why not?" Merlin demanded.

"Because you can't...oh, of course." Arthur shook his head. "You used magic."

"What? No!" Merlin exclaimed, thoroughly offended.

"Come on, Merlin. You can't even make it to the laundry room without tripping over your feet. I'm expected to believe you have the grace and agility necessary to make that throw without cheating?"

"Why not?" Merlin challenged. "Stranger things have happened."

"Yes, thanks to your _magic_," Arthur stressed. "Nice joke, Merlin, but leave the knife-throwing to the professionals, all right?" He caught Leon's eyes and smirked, intending not to argue with the warlock anymore.

"Oh, Arthur!"

Of course, Merlin wasn't going to let it go. Arthur turned back to Merlin expectantly. His servant was holding another knife, casually twirling the blade in his fingers, and Arthur had to do a double take when he realised Merlin's eyes weren't glowing gold – there wasn't even a hint of it, actually – his eyes were blue as ever. Merlin smirked at him, and proceeded to fling the knife into Gwaine's target – dead centre once again.

"Blimey, Merlin," said Percival as the other knights exclaimed in admiration, Gwaine the loudest of all. Arthur was looking utterly gobsmacked.

"Do that again," he ordered.

"Oh, _now_ you believe I wasn't cheating?" Merlin asked impertinently.

"_Mer_lin."

"As you wish, Sire." Without getting up from his seat on the bench, Merlin threw three more knives into the middle of Leon's, Percival's, and Elyan's targets. The angle was progressively more difficult with each succeeding target, but Merlin's aim remained unerring, and his knife always hit the target exactly in the centre. Through it all, his eyes never once flickered to gold.

By the end of his demonstration, all the knights were looking with new respect at Merlin, while Arthur's mouth was opening and closing soundlessly in shock, making him look like a fish – which Merlin did not hesitate to point out.

"Who would've guessed you could do something like this?" Elyan said in wonder. "Where did you learn to throw knives like that?"

Merlin shrugged nonchalantly, but they all could tell he was extremely pleased with the praise. "Ealdor's a quiet village," he replied. "There was plenty of opportunity to practice a craft. Will and I used to compete to see who could hit a particular knot on a tree the most times."

"Well, it certainly paid off," Gwaine observed. "Hey, Princess, maybe you should put Merlin in the knife-throwing competition."

Arthur finally regained his voice as, with a thoughtfully smug expression, he said, "Yes, maybe I should…"

Gwaine, Merlin, and Elyan all stared at Arthur; they hadn't expected him to actually consider Gwaine's joking proposal. Leon, Percival, and Lancelot exchanged amused glances.

"You're not serious, are you, Arthur?" asked Merlin.

"Why not?" asked Arthur, throwing the warlock's own words back at him. "Camelot's finest doesn't just consist of knights."

"Oh, this'll be _fun_." Gwaine smiled wickedly. "Do you know how much coin I could make by betting on you?" he said to Merlin.

"You _are _serious," Merlin realised, still speaking to Arthur and oblivious to Gwaine's intentions to make money off his skills. Apparently the idea had caught on, though, as even Leon and Percival were grinning in anticipation of winning an unlikely bet.

Arthur shrugged. "If you're all right with it, I don't see why you shouldn't join Gwaine and Elyan in the knife-throwing event. Just as long as you don't use magic or otherwise make a fool of yourself."

"'Camelot's pride is at stake'," Gwaine quoted with mock pomposity and solemnity. Lancelot chuckled.

Merlin, however, said, "I don't know, Arthur…"

"Oh, come on," said Gwaine. "I say it's about time you got some recognition, my friend. We can't give you that for your magic yet, but knife-throwing is a perfectly acceptable skill. When was the last time you got an opportunity to show it off, anyway?"

"Not since I left Ealdor," Merlin responded absently. "To be honest, I can't remember the last time I threw a knife like that."

Lancelot's eyes widened slightly as he caught the implication – Merlin had just beat all the knights at throwing knives _despite _having not done it for some time. Arthur, however, let it slip by without comment.

"Well, Merlin?" he asked. "Shall I put your name in for the tournament or not?"

Merlin looked as though he was seriously considering participating, but then he shook his head and smiled. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll sit this one out. I'm not looking for international recognition," he explained. "Which is what I would get if I beat Mercia's knights at their own game."

"You're that sure of your skill then, eh, Merlin?" Leon said lightly.

Merlin grinned. "Definitely. But like I said, I'm not looking for the recognition. It's easier to protect Arthur when everyone underestimates me."

Arthur shrugged. "Suit yourself. But maybe you could give Gwaine and Elyan some training."

"Are you doubting my knife-throwing skills, Princess?" Gwaine challenged.

"Not at all, Sir Gwaine. But do you dare deny that Merlin's skills are better than yours?" Arthur's tone outright _dared _Gwaine to say otherwise – Merlin had a pride all of his own, and was a powerful sorceror to boot.

"Now that's not fair," Gwaine whined.

"Don't worry, Gwaine," Merlin said with a laugh. "You're quite good already."

"Not as good as you, mate."

"Well…" Merlin smirked. "No, not quite."

"It's a pity," Arthur sighed.

"What is?" Lancelot queried.

"That Merlin won't be competing in the tournament." Arthur smirked. "Can't you just imagine the look that would have been on the Mercians' faces when they realised they'd been outclassed by a serving boy?"

This evoked hearty chuckles from all the knights.

"Do you know what else is funny?" Gwaine said impishly.

"What?" asked Elyan.

"Merlin's better at something combat-related than Arthur."

Arthur's eyes went wide as Merlin laughed. The King simply sighed as his knights all grinned at his servant. Magic, Dragonlord, unseen protecting, now knife-throwing…at this rate, he wouldn't be able to call Merlin useless anymore.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: So, that was the sequel. There'll be two more oneshot sequels after this, as well as **Knowledge of Friends **(which looks as though it'll be the last to be published after all). Hope you enjoyed this sequel, and hope to see you reading (and reviewing) the sequels to come!**_


	2. Notification

_**A/N: I don't normally post author's notes as chapters, but since so many people have subscribed to this fic, it's the easiest way to let y'all know that the third fic in this series, **Extraordinary Knowledge**, has now been posted. You are welcome! **_

_**Merry Christmas!**_


End file.
